The Fifth Day Biking 2018 St. Emilion to Villandraut

                  Interesting night!  Lots of rain and in the middle of the night I found out that the charger was not charging either battery.  Without electrical assistance I would be forced to abandon the ride.  Fortunately, Malachi, the Irishman across lent a little Irish luck and his electricity had the charger working.  I am looking for four leaf clovers beneath his camper and another trip to the craps table.

                  The night before I shared my favorite Irish story.  While cycling Ireland in 1991, I was heading west from the Rock of Cashel toward Tipperary.  Along the way I shouted to a farmer working a field, “How far is it to Tipperary?”  He sang back, “It is a long, long way to Tipperary.”

With one battery 75% full and the other 50%, I rode confidently with fingers and toes crossed to Cadillac.  Being Sunday the trucks had disappeared to be replaced by an equal number of cyclists in both directions.  I even swept by a slower paced gaggle of cyclists from New Jersey.  Eric was the designated drag captain and we had several chances to exchange information.  This is the second year that they had rented their bikes.  The cost of shipping their bikes had become grossly prohibitive.  Unfortunately, his bike was poorly set up for a man his size and weight.  The bike was too short and the back wheel too weak.  In fact, he had already broken one spoke. 

                  They have cycled France several times, and Italy and Germany once each.  They graciously extended an invitation to join them for lunch.  The problem became choosing a place.  As we circled the center of the town, various opinions were offered.  Like many debates of the General Assembly in the UN, there was no resolution.  Nobody seemed to mind leaving town on empty stomachs.

                  I easily chose a café near the center and luck was my lady.  The barman allowed the battery to be charged while I enjoyed a beer.  When I asked about food he politely informed me that a café does not serve food, only drinks and coffee.  Then with a twinkle in his eye he hurried to the back.  He returned with a round of cheese, a jar of pate, and a half baguette.  When I offered to pay he said that it was on the house.

                  The lady at the tourist office gave directions to Villandraut with absolute assurances that the campground was open.  There are only two guarantees in life, death and taxes, and hers did not join the group.  They were having a departing party for bole club.  Otherwise they were closed.  I begged and pleaded on hands and knees and the manager finally checked with his boss. She okayed one night and there would be no charge.  There would be a toilet but no hot water for a shower.  The place looked like it would need at least three weeks to be up and running.

                  After choosing a site and sitting up camp I was able to charge the batteries in the restaurant.  Shortly afterwards, a party of three English arrived on a tandem and a single, a father, his daughter, and a friend of his daughter.  They were from north Yorkshire, my favorite part of England.  The wonderful stories of the veterinarian, James Herriot, were an absolute pleasure to read.  I cycled that area twice.

                  The daughter was blind and deaf and rode behind her father.  Her friend was deaf and rode alone.  The father and daughter had made many tours but this was the first for the friend.  They are heading to the coast and then to Bordeaux to meet a tour bus.  The tour bus dropped them off on the Mediterranean 7 day before.

                  From the sublime to the ridiculous!  The gift that keeps on giving!  Late in the evening another man in the campground, a lease, informed me that there was Internet.  Wow!  I immediately busied myself posting blogs.

                  Rain is in the forecast for the next several days!

Happy trails to you until we meet again!

Much joy!!!
Hardy